Mercs in Pyroland
by AMBC
Summary: When Merasmus sends a demon to the RED base, it places a single member under a curse. The rest of the team are dragged into their companion's mind, where they get a glimpse of what could very well change their perspective of that very companion. Meanwhile, the Administrator decides to remove some 'unwanted' evidence and Miss Pauling and Teufort's local wizard race to help.


Deep inside the skull head of Ghost Fort on a clear night, a Scottish wizard was brewing an incantation in his cauldron. He laughed evilly as he spun the large wooden spoon around, "The ashes of five chickens." The wizard demanded.

The new apprentice nodded, and handed the wizard a bowl with the ashes of five chickens that the younger magician had killed earlier that day, "Mr. Merasmus, again, sir, why are we performing a cursing spell?" The young man asked.

The wizard known as Merasmus closed his eyes, annoyed with the new apprentice, "Because that pig-headed beast Soldier needs to be weakened through other means."

"Are you still mad over what he did to your house?" The apprentice asked.

"Shut up! That's none of your business!" Merasmus snapped, "I hired you to help me with my magic, and that's what you will do! Now, hand me the oil from the eyes of ten sea turtles."

"What kind of spell is this?" The apprentice asked, handing the jar of oil to Merasmus.

"A summoning spell." Merasmus said, "If I can't defeat Soldier in reality, then I will crush him from within. I am going to summon the most terrifying creature to do the job."

"Which creature is that?"

"A Begoogliar. They have the power to drag people down into a deep, unawakening sleep." Merasmus poured the liquid into the cauldron. The liquid instantly turned green and sparks flew around the room. A wind kicked up and circled the room. Merasmus gave an evil cackle that made him feel better about his magical ability. The apprentice took a step back. He never saw magic this powerful.

"NOW, BEGOOGLIAR, DEMON OF DREAMS, I HAVE SUMMONED YOU FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL! SHOW YOURSELF!" Merasmus made a dramatic hand movement over the cauldron as the whole room lit up green. There was blinding light that shone throughout the area. Once it was faded, the liquid in the cauldron lit up. The apprentice watched, mystified as a small, shadowy pitch-black figure started to emerge from the cauldron.

The figure looked a lot like a mini-ghost, only this one had arms and glowing red eyes. And it was holding a cup of soda. The Begoogliar slurped on his drink and gave Merasmus a nonchalant wave, "Hey, 'sup, Mer."

"Ah, good, you're here. Now, I can-" Before Merasmus could explain his reason for summoning the Begoogliar, the red-eyed creature started to slurp up all of his drink, taking his sweet time doing it. After a whole minute of slurping while the wizard became irritated, he threw the cup over his back.

"Ah, that hit the spot." It was hard to read his facial expressions since he didn't have a mouth, but it looked as if he was grinning.

"If you are quite done," Merasmus grumbled, trying to keep his patience under control, "I need your help."

Now the Begoogliar was interested. He tilted his head to the side, "Sure thing, Mer. What'd you want help with?"

Merasmus smiled, "I want you to use your powers to bind a pest's soul to his dreams, his own mind to be exact. I want him to become a prisoner in his own body."

"The ol' 'trap humans in their own subconscious' trick, eh? No problem, Mer. Dragging humans into never-ending dreams is my speciality. So, who's the poor bastard you want dispersed from reality?"

"I have a picture of him," Merasmus snapped his fingers at the apprentice, "Now, hand the photo over to the Begoogliar. Quickly!" The apprentice nodded and ran over to a cabinet that contained pictures of the RED team. But when he looked over them, he frowned in confusion. What did the Soldier look like again? He could never remember people's faces.

"Hurry up, dammit! The Begoogliar doesn't have all night!" Merasmus yelled. Actually, it was the Begoogliar who was watching with an amused expression while Merasmus was getting more impatient.

Scared over his boss yelling at him, the young man took one of the photos of who he hoped was the Soldier and handed it to the Begoogliar. The red-eyed demon studied the photo and nodded, "Hmm, alright then. Will be a challenge, but that's nothing I can't handle."

"A challenge indeed. You will find him at 2Fort in a barn painted red. Now go." The Begoogliar gave Merasmus a mock salute and flew away, through the shull head and away from the island. Once he was a godd distance away, the Begoogliar looked at the photo again and frowned.

"Sheesh, what an ugly looking dude. If that even is a dude." He muttered to himself. Oh yes, when the apprentice gave the Begoogliar the photo of one of the mercenaries, it wasn't the right one. Well, Begoogliars don't take mistakes into consideration. So, the photo the Begoogliar was holding wasn't a picture of the Soldier.

It was the Pyro.

* * *

><p>"Right, Mr. Ragde, can you tell us about your connection to the RED and BLU mercenaries?" The Director asked the pale-skinned man as he videotaped him trimming the hedges of Mann Manor in the middle of the night. Radlee Ragde, a descendant of Edgar Allan Poe, was the local wizard of Teufort. It was rumoured that he could see into the future, and as a result, became one of the most feared and respected citizens in Badlands, something that contradicts with his friendly, if not eccentric, demeanour. But then again, Teufort was a town of idiots.<p>

Radlee stopped trimming the hedges and tilted his head at the Director, "Well, I'm not friends with them, per say. I just sneak into their bases to get some things. What would you like to know?"

"From what I understand from the others, your family has known the Mann family for generations, when they first moved to Badlands. Paint me the picture." The Director said. The amount of footage he may receive had better be worth interviewing someone who would turn him into a frog if the wrong buttons were pushed. He hoped anyway. At least this was better than interviewing the lunatics down in the RED base.

Radlee looked away, "Alright, well, there's not much to say. My family moved to Badlands after my ancestor, Edgar Allan Poe, died of insanity. We came into contact with the House of Mann when their patriot was dying. He was going to include us in his will after we tried to help him, but he died before he got the chance. We didn't mind though..." Just than, his eyes went glassy. They looked so far away.

"...Mr. Ragde? Mr. Ragde, what were you going to say?" The Director pressed the camera further into Radlee's face.

"He's different..." Radlee whispered in a cracked voice.

"Who-"

"The Australian...he's different..."

"Mr. Ragde, I didn't ask about the victimised killer-"

"Beware the man in grey..."

"What are you-"

"It's running out..." Radlee murmured sleepily.

"What's running out?! You're not making any sense!"

"Her name is Elizabeth..."

"Oh, for God's–will you make sense for crying out loud?!"

Radlee blinked and shook his head. He looked around as if he was seeing the outside of the old manor for the first time. He then turned to the Director and said, "Is this an interview?"

The Director's left eye twitch, "For crying out loud, of course this is an interview! We're still doing an interview! I've been standing here the whole time while you wondered off into your own world, you chalk-white fre-" His rant was cut short when Radlee covered his mouth with his hand, "Mmmmmph?!"

Radlee tilted his head, straining to listen. He felt a presence in the town. It...wasn't human, no, but something else. It felt like a demon's presence. And it was heading towards the RED and BLU bases.

He slowly removed his hand from the Director's face, and walked silently down the path that led to the two bases, "Where are–where are you _going_?! You can't just leave me here! We have an interview!"

"It's okay. Silas only attacks on Halloween." Was Radlee's reply as his beloved pet raven, Nevermore, flew out from one of the top rooms and landed on Radlee's shoulder, as if it sensed its master's departure. Radlee's stroked the top of Nevermore's head and threw the trimmer he was holding into the air. Instantly, it transformed into a golden wand as it landed in the wizard's palm. Now with his trusty weapon in hand, Radlee rushed off to fight whatever demon was heading towards the bases, leaving the Director alone outside a manor that was haunted.

Good luck, Director. You're gonna need it.

**Yes, this is a new story! And it introduces a new OC! But don't worry, your favourite mercenaries will appear in the next chapter.**

**This is my first attempt at making a Team Fortess 2 fic, so be gentle. But be tough at the same time. I want this to be as good as possible.**

**If you read the TF2 comics, then you'd probably understand what Radlee is saying...even if it is eery...**


End file.
